Page 34 of The Cruel Heir
I deadpanned. "I’m not your son."
"Close enough." Frankie chuckled. "Now, are we getting back to business, or are we just gonna sit here admiring your hair?"
I sighed, rolling my neck. "Let’s finish this. The sooner we secure this, the better."
Frankie wasn’t wrong. But his words dragged me back to my own bloodline. My grandfather used to say the same thing about men with old souls. Pops hated his own father, and I hated mine just as much. And if my father carried on the family tradition of breaking us into manhood, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t understand it.
Not that I saw eye to eye with my father on anything. Hence why I had to kill him. Something that shouldn’t have needed to be done, but my father was a sick fucking bastard, and needed to be put out of his fucking misery.
There were things about my family that no one on the outside could ever understand. Things I hadn’t even told Zara.
I didn’t kill my father just because he was cruel. I killed him because he was a monster.
I mean, who the fuck breeds their daughters to keep The Family bloodline clean? The ritual of drinking their blood for wealth disgusted me, and I swore I’d end it the moment I took over.
My sister, my only other living sibling, was the one who suffered most. Father pushed her past breaking, and she lost herself completely. I hoped I could save her one day. When my empire was stronger and I could appeal to the doctors who had her.
I was the heir, and that made me untouchable in one way, but it didn’t mean I was safe. Father’s lessons came in fists and commands, as he molded me into his weapon.
I was the heir and, in his mind, he didn’t have a spare.
What use was a female heir other than for breeding? And, if she would not breed for profit until eighteen, then she would damn well breed for The Family, for purity. Those pregnancies never stuck and, slowly, it drove her insane.
“Thinking about Scarlett again, aren’t you?” Frankie asked me.
I faked a shiver. “How do you do that?”
He shrugged and looked away. “We were all best friends at one point, I know you like family.”
I used to believe that. Chadwick’s grin could pick any lock, and Frankie’s fists broke what the grin couldn’t. We skipped econ to steal the dean’s scotch, and carvedS + C + Finto the bleachers, like idiots who thought oak would last forever.
“Brothers before bloodlines,”Chadwick had said. I bled for that vow, but it turns out he never nicked the skin.
Frankie kept talking over my inner memories. “You get this look on your face when you think about her situation. Have you gone to see her?”
I shook my head no, simultaneously shaking off the past. “I feel like it’s my fault she’s in there. If I’d done something about him sooner, he wouldn’t have been able to hurt her one last time. Her body gave out.”
“Still, it may do her good to see you.”
“Maybe,” I murmured. It was weird Frankie kept going on about my sister, but he visited more than me, so I guess I should be grateful. I’d rather focus on this will debacle.
I was coming for my hummingbird. I hoped she wasn’t ready for me at all.
I licked my lips, thinking about how delicious she would taste again. It was too bad our parents were always around, or I’d lay her out on the table to feast on. They wouldn’t keep me away from her though. And soon, they wouldn’t be a problem.
Oh no, I was going to join her in our bed tonight, in our room, so I could celebrate her being exactly where she belonged; beneath me. For however long I commanded it. I was the heir to the Kingston legacy, and I wouldn’t be denied.
ZARA
Dinner at the Kingsley mansion felt like stepping into a lion’s den. The weight of pretense hung thick in the air, every interaction steeped in power plays and unspoken rules. The sprawling dining room, with its glimmering chandeliers and long, polished table, was nothing short of suffocating. The walls seemed to close in with every passing second, the luxury of it all mocking the tight knot of anxiety in my chest.
Sterling, ever the commanding presence, was at my side, his hand resting possessively at the small of my back as he led me to the table. He didn’t ask if I wanted his help, he simply acted, pulling out my chair and waiting until I sat. His dark skin gleamed under the warm light, his tailored suit hugging his muscular frame with precision. The dark gray fabric was sharp, but it was the blue vest that stood out, making his eyes gleam with an intensity that had my stomach twisting in knots.
I couldn’t deny that Sterling was a stunning man. His sharp jawline, neatly trimmed beard, and the quiet confidence he exuded, could make anyone pause. But the way he used his presence to control and manipulate eclipsed any attraction forme he might have felt. The way his eyes followed me wasn’t admiration, it was ownership.
As the first course was served, Sterling made himself the center of attention, his voice calm and commanding as he turned to my father. “John, I’ve been meaning to ask. What prompted the sudden decision to remarry?” His tone was casual, but there was a sharpness to his words, a predator’s interest lurking beneath the surface.
John stiffened, his fork pausing midway to his mouth. “It was time,” he said simply, his tone dismissive. “The timing worked out and Zee-” he corrected himself, glancing at me, “Zara needed stability. A proper family environment.”
